


That "something magical in the air" thing they talk about on TV

by purplefuzzysweater



Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Domestic, F/M, Fluff, Holidays, Michelle's just really into pasta, date
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:53:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22053586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purplefuzzysweater/pseuds/purplefuzzysweater
Summary: He thinks he finally understands what this is once they're outside. That "there's something magical in the air" thing you hear in TV commercials at this time of the year? It's definitely happening to him right now.
Relationships: Michelle Jones & Peter Parker, Michelle Jones/Peter Parker
Comments: 15
Kudos: 81
Collections: Spideychelle Secret Santa - 2k19





	That "something magical in the air" thing they talk about on TV

**Author's Note:**

  * For [adritae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/adritae/gifts).



> This is my gift to @adritae for the Spideychelle Secret Santa - 2k19 !  
> You wanted something domestic, or any sort of date, so I tried and wrote that - I hope you like it!  
> Happy holidays to y'all!! xx

_"I'm at Stella 34. I ordered the risotto and a sparkling water for you.”_

_"You're perfect. Thank you! I'll be right there._ _:)_ _ <3”_

Peter stows his phone in his coat pocket while swiftly weaving his way through a group of teenagers on the escalator. Stella 34 is right next to Macy's Sleepwear department and is crammed with suit-wearing traders who talk loudly, but the food is good and it's the most romantic option Peter and Michelle have found for their impromptu date.

They aren't planning on staying more than 45 minutes anyway – they're in a race against time. Michelle has set an alarm and she's already paid the bill, but Peter doesn't need to know that right away.

It's purely due to practical reasons and because they don't really have a choice: Peter and Michelle have barely had time to see each other over the last month. Life is hectic. She has a billion briefs to complete before the end of the year, he's busy working on the upcoming Stark Expo (surprise! Stark Industries are bringing it back!) which will begin in mid-January, and as Betty cynically pointed out, they are practically in a long-distance relationship, since Peter lives in Williamsburg and Michelle still lives in her mother's Upper East Side penthouse.

Right now, their relationship consists of phone calls strategically scheduled in between the time Michelle gets home from work and Peter goes out on patrol, texts in the morning and mid-afternoon during their respective micro coffee breaks. It's not ideal.

And it should stay that way until next Saturday, when they finally meet up at Pepper's party – a big event to celebrate Christmas, the end of the year and Morgan's birthday, which is in the middle of the holidays. Which should definitely be fun, but would be about a thousand times more fun if the party was held, like, tomorrow night. Or even earlier.

It's just been too long.

Michelle had complained last night, her grumpy pout popping up on Peter's phone screen. "I know there's nothing we can do about it, but I miss you.”

"I know, I miss you too. I feel like I haven't seen you in forever.” He had sighed heavily. “And to think that we won't see each other until Saturday...”

"It's going to be a very long week," his girlfriend had nodded.

"By the way, we should really start thinking about Morgan's birthday present, shouldn't we?”

"I'm thinking about it.” There had been the sound of keys being thrown on the coffee table in the foyer, and the voice of Mrs Watson ex-Jones greeting her daughter in the distance. “And we should also buy Pepper something as a thank you for the invitation.”

"Isn't that too formal? I mean, Pepper's literally a friend, besides being my boss.”

"That's what 26-year-old adults do, I guess," Michelle had shrugged.

“Yeah, you're right. But I don't see when we'll have time to go shopping for two gifts, knowing that next week is gonna be intense and you're working this weekend, and I'll be upstate.”

"I mean, I can exceptionally take a two-hour lunch break tomorrow and stop by Macy's real quick?"

"Wait," Peter had quickly checked his schedule. "I have a 2:30 phone call with engineers from Wakanda, but if I work productively in the morning I think I can free up some time for lunch as well.”

"The question is, will you be able to work productively?”

Uncalled for but said fondly, and so _MJ_. Oh, how Peter missed her.

"If it means I get to spend two hours with you, then I'll even be Employee of the Month.”

He had grinned upon hearing her laugh. "So this is a date?”

"It's a date.”

"I can't believe you got all dressed up."

Peter winks at her while placing his coat on the back of his chair, revealing a perfectly tailored grey suit and a white shirt. He had been getting jokes from his coworkers this morning – Stark Industries has a very casual dress code – but it was worth it if it made Michelle laugh.

He leans over to plant two small kisses on her mouth. Michelle reaches out for a third one before he steps back.

"We did say it was a date, didn't we? And now you look like you're having lunch with a trader, too.”

She rolls her eyes, a warm smile on her lips. "Your risotto's lukewarm.”

"How much time do we have, again?”

"41 minutes.” She checks her watch. Peter fakes a look of horror and pretends he's trying to gobble up his food. "I've been thinking, we could get something for Morgan here, then look around the block for Pepper. I really don't think we can get her a piece of clothing.”

"We definitely don't have the right budget for that," Peter replies, swallows his bite. "How about a nice flower bouquet? We could order it now for next Saturday.”

Michelle takes out her phone to jot that down. "Perfect. How about a piece of jewelry for Morgan? Wouldn't that be nice?”

"I agree. No clothes for her either, because I literally have no idea what's trendy among 15-year-olds.”

"Neither do I. How about a bracelet?”

"Great idea.” Impressed whistle. "Dang it, we're killing this brainstorming thing.”

"And what are we buying for May, by the way?” Michelle casually asks between a bite of her tagliatelle and a sip of Peter's sparkling water.

He looks up from his dish. "…We?”

There's a silence. The waiter drops a basket of bread on their table as he passes by. Michelle says, "What?"

"Do you want us to get May a gift together?"

"Wouldn't she like that?"

That's an understatement. May has been grilling Peter about marriage ever since he and Michelle started dating, and getting a gift tagged with both of their names will certainly give her something to talk about.

It's just – the concept is new. They've never given gifts to each other's parents/parent figures before. But looks like it's a thing they're doing now.

All right, cool. Peter can be chill about it. He's not gonna show how moved he is by how they're so unofficially taking this next step in their relationship.

He gulps. "You're right. She's gonna love it.”

"Cool," is the detached response he gets, along with a drop of sour cream landing on the edge of his plate when Michelle twists some pasta around her fork.

"Um, so, what are we getting your mom?” he asks tentatively.

"Oh, you're not getting her anything. And if you do, she'll force you to take your gift back to the store. You know that.”

“Man, Madeline and her _darn_ principles.”

They leave the restaurant two minutes before Michelle's alarm goes off, a reservation made under the name of May Parker for a massage at the Mandarin Oriental (her nephew will definitely not be spared an umpteenth conversation about marriage) and not a single grain of rice left on Peter's plate.

There's a celebratory high-five, then they take each other's hand as they make their way through the crowded aisles of the store.

This isn't the first holiday season they're spending together – they've known each other since high school, lost touch while in college, reconnected in New York when Michelle started law school at Columbia, have been dating for a year and a half – but there's something brand new and shiny about going Christmas shopping together.

It's strangely domestic. A habit that's not theirs, just like giving May a present together.

And yet, everything looks traditionally in its place: the giant tree in the middle of the mall, tourists stopping to take pictures, locals swiftly going around them, accustomed to the crowd, and now Peter and Michelle searching for a shared gift for Morgan, hand in hand.

The whole universe is undeniably in order, Peter feels serene and yet it looks like something is brewing. Or is he imagining that?

"Which one is your favorite?” Michelle asks, looking over her shoulder.

She is leaning over a display of jewelry and points to a row of bracelets.

“This one?”

"Oh, I was really scared we'd have to argue,” Michelle sighs with relief. She turns to the saleswoman. "We'll take the one with the light blue cultured freshwater pearls, please.”

Peter laughs. "It's just that this bracelet is undeniably Morgan."

"I know, that's what I thought too!”

"Is this for your child?” The saleswoman asks politely.

"No," Michelle answers.

"Yes," Peter says, randomly.

His girlfriend opens her mouth, stunned. He shrugs imperceptibly.

"Oh, how old are they?”

"15.”

Dani – according to her name tag – really does her best not to look puzzled. She ultimately doesn't find anything to answer. Can't blame her. Michelle wishes her a nice day and picks up the lovely gift bag before quickly walking away, Peter on her heels.

"Why did you say that?” She asks him once they are far enough.

"Honestly, I don't know.” _Just to see how it would feel to say that_.

“It's not even remotely convincing. You look 19 and not a day older, Parker.”

“Joke's on you because you're dating me,” he chuckles.

Michelle tries to hide her grin behind her scarf. He _does_ have good comebacks. “When we do have kids, that's gonna be a problem, though.”

Peter freezes.

They never talked about the prospect of having children together. Michelle had said she would like to be a mother one day, a comment made in passing and in the middle of a more general conversation about women and the workplace – but that's all.

So that's new, too.

Michelle doesn't seem to realize the importance of the moment, does she? She stops, feeling the resistance in Peter's hand.

"You--you want to have kids with me?" he splutters.

She stares at him silently, then frowns. "I took a two-hour lunch break when I have a monstrous amount of work to do just to go shopping for presents for your boss and her daughter. I just booked a surprise massage for your aunt. I'm holding your hand in public even though you look like you're a sophomore in college. Yeah, I want to have kids with you.”

It's simple, it's straightforward. It's obvious and there's not the slightest trace of hesitation.

Again, the universe seems to be in order and yet there's _something_ going on right now, he's sure of it.

"Me too, I really want to have kids with you," that's all Peter says, a bit dumbfounded.

"Cool. So that's settled. Now, Pepper's flowers?”

He stares at her. Michelle raises her eyebrows. "Pepper's flowers?” She repeats, something in her tone reminding him of Liz's days as decathlon captain.

Peter reboots. "Oh, right. On it."

He thinks he finally understands what this is once they're outside. That _"there's something magical in the air"_ thing you hear in TV commercials at this time of the year? It's definitely happening to him right now.

It's been snowing non-stop for the last four days, and New York City is now a mixture of slippery pavements and snowflake-shaped lights. The wind is treacherously flowing through coat collars. People marvel at the shop windows.

Christmas is approaching, and there is something magical in the air of the city. And Peter's _something magical_ has icy fingers that she tightens around his because she has forgotten her gloves again.

Peter _knows_.

He watches Michelle order for Pepper a red and white bouquet of anemones, roses and lisianthus and he knows. He buys her purple baby's breaths while she gives the salesperson her address – they are on a date, after all – and when she accepts the flowers, a falsely exasperated eye roll and a "Thank you, dork" for him, he knows.

He's had this realization several times in the past – at the movies in March, in Bryant Park this summer when they shared a pistachio ice cream, in her mother's kitchen at Thanksgiving last year –but the one he has right now is as blinding as the festive lights of the city. It tastes like euphoria and looks like a miracle.

It's almost Christmas, a taxi honks, a child spills his hot chocolate on the sidewalk and Peter falls in love with Michelle for the umpteenth time.

He knows. It's her.

The universe gives him a thumbs up.

Peter wants to say something. He has to say something.

"We have 15 minutes left together. Walk me to Whole Foods?" Michelle pulls him out of his thoughts. He nods, still kind of dazed.

She drags him to the supermarket, zigzagging between the passers-by and the icy puddles. Peter's going to say something, it's settled. Another 15 minutes and they'll have to say goodbye for a week – which isn't so tragic, but right now he feels a certain urgency, an agitation that resembles the general energy in the cold streets.

"I feel like eating pasta tonight," Michelle declares as she walks into the store. There's a Christmas song playing through the speakers. A promotion on organic Snickerdoodles in the main aisle.

"Didn't you just eat tagliatelle?," Peter asks, his throat tightening. He's feeling strangely emotional.

"Yeah, but I feel like eating penne. Hold my flowers, I'll go get some sauce.”

Michelle stops in the next aisle, squinting as she studies the labels on the glass jars – she just doesn't make any decisions lightly. Her scarf almost grazes the ground. Peter thinks, _if she goes for the eggplant pesto, I'm asking her to move in with me._

She grabs a jar of basil pesto.

Peter takes the hit.

Michelle frowns, puts the jar back down and takes an eggplant pesto instead, then cradles it in the crook of her arm, clutched against her chest with her bag of penne.

Peter says, "MJ, do you want to move in with me?"

She turns to him. "…Huh?”

"After the holidays, when work is less crazy, do you want to start looking for an apartment together?”

Michelle blinks.

"Yeah," she says shyly.

"Yes? Are--are you sure?"

Here’s the timid version of her usual eye roll. "Yeah, nerd.”

"Okay," Peter takes a step towards her. "I don't care if we're in the middle of a condiment aisle, I'm about to kiss you.”

She laughs, penne and eggplant pesto sauce threatening to fall off with the movement. "Go for it.”

He goes for it.

There's a firework in his heart, a choir of angels singing in his ear, the magic of Christmas in their enamored giggles. He holds her chin between his index finger and thumb, kisses her with all the love and sincerity he can muster.

Her lips taste like a promise.

This afternoon, once Michelle is back at the firm, she won't be able to get any work done. She will stare at her computer screen looking absent and a little dizzy, tell her two interns to go home early, even. She, too, fell in love with Peter for the umpteenth time today. When he arrived at the restaurant in his grey suit that he usually only wears at weddings, when he looked at Michelle with almost incredulous hope, asking her if she wanted to have kids with him one day. When he offered her the kind of flowers that the salesman said lasts a whole week, a kind of hourglass before they see each other again because he's corny like that.

She doesn't dismiss the thought telling her that maybe she is too, when she sits in the subway at 11 pm and dips her nose in her baby's breaths, her purse held tightly under her arm and her head resting against the cold window of the car.

The flowers smell like the beginning of an adventure.

And in the air today there was definitely something magical, and Michelle saw it in brown eyes, in the warm, familiar hand that held hers while walking through the city crowd. And even in the risotto she was allowed to finish.

She too, _knows_.


End file.
